


One More Night

by Mad_Mage



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Idiots in Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:40:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Mage/pseuds/Mad_Mage
Summary: Was this going to be one of those nights?
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 15
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing’s mine, I’m just borrowing these characters and I promise to return them unharmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome to this little three-shot. It’s been a while, so I hope you’ll have fun ;)

Raymond nursed his fourth glass of scotch in his uninjured hand, staring at the city below. The view was spectacular as usual and he snorted. Only the best for Raymond fucking Reddington; the best hotel suites, best scotch, beautiful women throwing themselves at him... Yeah, or throwing vases at his head, occasionally, when there weren’t any pens lying around to stick into his neck.

He finished the drink and slowly leaned to pour another one. Half the bottle of the best scotch was gone, wasted in a vain attempt to numb the pain. Well, maybe not. Red stopped feeling the little aches all over his body and ignored the swelling of his right hand. Without glancing at the bruised knuckles with skin cracked and bleeding in some places, he would have forgotten that he had been in a brawl earlier in the evening. Thank God there weren’t any mirrors around so he didn’t have to be reminded of the sorry state of his face.

The pain eating away at him from the inside, that was another matter entirely. Sometimes he wished to have his heart made of stone, but that foolish thing was very much alive, thumping painfully in his chest every minute of every day.

He heard the door open, and then a soft whisper in the night, “Raymond?”

Shuddering, he closed his eyes. Not Red, or Reddington. Would he ever get used to hearing his name slip from her lips so casually?  _ Raymond _ , as if it was a natural occurrence, normal thing for them. He felt like crying, screaming into the skies, that he didn’t want all that money and the best luxurious things it could buy. Red had stopped caring about private jets and private fucking islands ages ago. He just wanted her to call him Raymond every day; in the chaotic mornings when they would rush through their morning routine... and late in the evenings, just seconds before falling asleep in the same bed. Or even Ray. He thought he would burn the whole world down to hear her call him Ray, just once.

“Are you here?”

A beat of silence, in which he contemplated not to answer, to pretend that no, he wasn’t there. Another shudder later, all breath left his body in a resigned sigh, “Lizzie.”

He wanted to smash his drink against the window, ask her not to come inside, to leave him the fuck alone. He didn’t do either of those things and listened to her quiet footsteps as she moved further into the room.

“Hey.” Her hand gently touched his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

No, he wasn’t. Red doubted he would ever be. He had recovered from dozens of bar brawls, fistfights, numerous shootouts, a few torture sessions... but he knew he would never recover from her. Lizzie had ruined him so effortlessly and he had let her so willingly, eagerly.

“Of course. What I can I do for you, Lizzie?” His voice sounded even to his own ears too formal, detached, and he knew she would recognize it for what it was – an evasive maneuver.

“I wanted to make sure you’re ok.” Her hand moved from his shoulder to the nape of his neck and Lizzie made him raise his eyes to her face. It hurt to look at her most of the time these days. Now, the honest concern etched into her face was something Raymond craved desperately, just for this one moment in time. He could pretend that his feelings were returned, that losing his heart to her hadn’t been the greatest mistake of his life, that she would keep it safe from any further harm.

Like the damned, foolish, love-sick man he was, Red leaned into the touch and closed his eyes when Lizzie cradled his cheek in her hand.

He felt her breath against his skin, hovering for a brief moment, before her lips touched his so gently, so carefully, that he wanted to weep at the injustice of it all.

Her lipstick would leave a red smudge on his mouth and the very idea of where else he had usually found those red smudges had him suddenly out of breath. Was this going to be one of those nights?

Raymond wasn’t sure if the shiver that ran through his body at that thought was from excitement or fright. The morning light would always be unforgivable and the day merciless. There would be no Lizzie in his bed in the morning. He would meet Agent Keen at the Post Office who called him Reddington or Red at best – not his lover whispering ‘Raymond’ so softly into his ear in the darkness of night.

It was killing him. They couldn’t do this anymore, he thought even as his body responded to her closeness automatically. Red returned the kiss just as gently before letting her take the lead. Lizzie was mindful of his split lip and the bruises, peppering his face with featherlike kisses while her hands were busy unbuttoning his vest and shirt and unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers and pulling down his boxers and…

He had already told himself a million times that he would not let it all go – his common sense, his pride, his dignity – like this again, that he would not let her do this to him any longer. He would hate himself come morning, and she would act as if these nights weren’t happening with frightening regularity, and as if he was only an asset, an informant.

Red couldn’t let her continue.

“Wait, Lizzie, wait.” He grasped her wrists, breathing raggedly, eyes shut. “Stop.” 

He was not going to look into her eyes, no. He swallowed and rested his forehead against hers for a second, gathering what little resolve he had left as his heart pounded and pounded and his body ached for her.

“What is it, Raymond?” Her voice was husky, slightly confused, but still so damned concerned that he wanted to snarl at her to stop pretending that she cared the way he needed her to. He knew she didn’t, not really. Raymond couldn’t continue like this, letting her stupidly use him as her personal stress reliever. For Lizzie, it was just sex, a way of comforting each other after a traumatic situation. Red wouldn’t mind it so much if it were anyone but Lizzie – hell, Lizzie certainly hadn’t been the first woman to warm his bed for exactly that reason. She was just the only one he wanted to keep there every night. 

“I’m fine,” he said hoarsely. “Now that you made sure, you should better go.”

“Red?” Now her voice reflected more confusion with a tad of disbelief. He had never sent her away before. Her hands, still in his grasp, twitched but he held tightly, biting the inside of his cheek.

A part of him couldn’t comprehend that he was saying her no – there wasn’t anything on this Earth that he wanted more than her, after all… but not like this, when he burnt for so much more. It took more effort than he would have expected to push her hands away from him, to let go of them.

Lizzie lost her balance and stumbled back. He opened his eyes and watched her straighten, her face stunned. She ran her hand down the front of her blouse – it was the same one she had worn earlier to that bar – and opened and closed her mouth.

“Red?” she repeated finally and Raymond tried not to cling to the absurd notion that he detected hurt in that single word. It couldn’t be there, could it? Why would she be hurt by his actions? Anger was a more probable reaction because she would not be getting what she had come for.

“Go, Lizzie,” he told her gravely and speaking those words hurt like hell. But Red would not take them back. His eye twitched nervously when she remained silent as he was straightening his clothes once more. However, he refused to look in her direction and proceeded to ignore her completely. Why was she still there? He had to make her go or his resolve would crumble and he would foolishly crawl on his knees to her, begging for her kisses and caresses and what little affection she could offer him.

She needed to go  _ now _ . Glancing only momentarily her way, Red steeled his voice and uttered disinterestedly, “Your services won’t be necessary tonight.”

That did the trick. Lizzie’s face reddened, her lips pursed and jaw clenched and she inhaled sharply. She didn’t shout, however – as Red expected she would – she just gave him one last indecipherable look and then she was marching out of that door and there was nothing soft or gentle or caring in her body language and her steps.

The door slammed shut loudly and in the ensuing silence, Red’s painful exhale could be easily mistaken for a choked sob. He sat there long into the early hours of the morning, his soul yearning for one more night with her when she would pretend that yes, she actually did care about what happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m currently recovering from a broken wrist, social distancing at home and being bored out of my mind. Typing is a real pain but I can go through old stuff and edit reasonably well even with one hand… and it just so happens that I have lots of unpublished Blacklist stuff. This story is actually from summer 2018 or so and I was stunned when I found it on my backup hard drive this afternoon. It doesn’t even seem as bad as I thought it was, so why not share it with others? Let me know what you think *winks*  
> Stay healthy and safe, your Mad Mage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside of Lizzie's head.

She was so tired. It was this deep, crushing exhaustion that made her limbs – her soul – heavy. Her eyes stung from it, her head ached. It was more than a sleepless night, more than just a few chaotic, stressful weeks.

It was Red.

He always made sure that she was alright. Even when things between them weren’t exactly good, he took a moment to call or to stop by. Liz had always known that her safety and wellbeing were Red’s priority and God knew that she had taken advantage of this weakness of his once or twice.

Was it really so hard to imagine that she liked to return the favor from time to time? That she wanted to return his care? Love?

For him, it was unimaginable. His words from last night echoed through her head when she wasn’t keeping herself busy. Not thinking about him, in general, took a lot of effort, and Liz was so fucking tired of hearing his voice inside her mind every second of every day.

She knew, of course, what had happened last night – that he had used such wording to make her angry because he wanted her out of his hotel room. Liz, perfectly aware of that fact, hadn’t fallen for it but she had chosen to retreat nonetheless. Red’s middle name could as well be evasion but last night’s reaction was something else; her inner psychologist was eagerly waiting with a notepad and pen ready to analyze what that had been about.

However, her inner psychologist was out of luck because Liz just did not feel like examining it too closely. That would force her to revisit all the reasons why his rejection had hurt so much and why she had started checking his physical wellbeing in the manner she had in the first place. Her complicated feelings for her criminal informant were one of those matters that were better left alone and buried deep in the subconscious mind – as all hopeless things, those stupid feelings shouldn’t ever see the light of day.

Tapping her pencil against the desk, Liz stared at a small plant pot next to her screen. The cactus was the only plant that could possibly survive in the Post Office with only Liz and Ressler to keep it alive. A tough survivor. It somehow reminded her of Raymond because it was also surrounded by defenses that prevented others from getting close enough to touch. If only Red wasn’t so stubborn and accepted the fact that she cared about him, everything would be much simpler. Liz had known that it was not going to happen and she had resorted to showing him instead in the only way she had known Raymond was able to accept.

Intimacy for Reddington wasn’t about love, it wasn’t lovemaking – it was just sex and he used it as a way to seek comfort, relieve some of his stress. As tactile as he was, he used a physical closeness instead of an emotional one. He also craved her attention and when he did not have it, he went to extremes to get it. She had been certain that this was the only way he was able to accept her affection and tried so very hard not to let him glimpse her deeper attachment. Close bonds scared the daylights out of him and there was no point in arguing that Reddington was the safest where the task force could assist him, where Liz could keep an eye on him – not on some tropical island, running from any sort of emotional investment.

It seemed that her subconscious mind was only way too happy to let slip these thoughts to the surface. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him and the reason why he was suddenly unwilling to bed her. Had he perhaps realized how fucked up it all had been?

Damn that man! If only she could just let go, maybe she would be able to sleep. She would kill for a good night’s sleep but the only times when she came close to that were moments in Raymond’s arms... which was not going to happen again, apparently.

Well, fuck it all, then. Liz growled and pushed herself from her desk, marching to the door. She was a woman on a mission – anyone who would stand in her quest of getting a coffee would be a dead man.

“Agent Keen!” Of course that it had to be Reddington who stepped into her path, seemingly materializing in front of her office from thin air. “What’s the hurry?”

Red looked probably as bad as Liz felt and the thought was somehow enough to stop her from bowling him over. The bruising on his face looked even worse in the harsh light at the Post Office than it had before but it was the shattered expression in his eyes was impossible to miss.

She also tried to completely ignore the way he smelled of exotic spices and the heat his body seemed to radiate and the fact that his mouth was just right there straight in her line of sight. The urge to close the remaining distance and offer the only comfort she could in the form of a kiss was making her angry – at him or at herself, she couldn’t decide. 

They looked at each other awkwardly for another second and then they both took a step back at the same time.

Red cleared his throat.

Liz shifted her weight. This was embarrassing and she knew that Red had noticed how she had eyed his lips. She had to deflect his attention and save some of her dignity after yesterday’s fiasco.

“Reddington, please, don’t tell me there’s another case. I need caffeine first.” She didn’t manage to stop the growl from escaping. He was making her weak and she hated it. Powerless.

“Haven’t you heard?” Red’s carefully composed expression remained the same even though he aimed for a lighthearted tone. “Criminals hardly ever meet expectations of FBI agents.”

Was he bringing up last night while she tried to not mention it at her work? Bastard. Her head hurt so much and her muscles burnt with exhaustion – her self-control was always bad around him, but she felt it slipping even further. Where was the trained professional when she needed her?

“This FBI agent is sick of that, so if you want something, you’ll have to wait.” Liz pushed passed him and continued toward the kitchenette. She needed her caffeine fix. 

“That’s not how this works, Agent Keen, and you know it.”

“Oh, I know perfectly well how this works.”

Reddington followed her unhappily and Liz had to suppress the urge to slam the door into his face. She was a mature adult and such behavior was beneath her. It was enough that she had spent the last few months – almost a fucking year – crawling into his bed and battering at his emotional defense mechanisms without success.

“Lizzie, if this is about last night…” he started quietly, closing the door himself. He gave her a reproachful look.

“It’s not.” It was. It was about all those nights, didn’t he understand? Liz suddenly felt quite stupid. Had she really believed that their activities could continue indefinitely? Or had she hoped that one bright morning Raymond would have an epiphany and realize that having her love was not actually a frightening thing? Oh, God, that was what had happened, wasn’t it? He had figured out the truth behind her visits and backed out. 

Really, why she didn’t realize it sooner? She must have given herself away somehow – maybe she had been too gentle with him last night, some of her tender feelings had leaked into her touches and kisses. He was ok with attraction and chemistry but emotions were dangerous. Liz knew that and yet…

“But if it is about last night, you know that what we shared was… fickle… seasonal.”

Seasonal? Her eyes grew large, her heart shattering as if it was made of glass. How should she interpret that? Was he serious? Had he just compared their sex to the weather? Like what? Seasonal rain or something? When the conditions were right, why yes, they could fuck?!

Before Liz could comprehend what was happening, she had already flung her empty coffee mug at his head. Red ducked, the mug sailed over his head and hit the wall with a loud thud before it fell to the floor. It chipped and the handle fell off.

“I see you are angry.” Red nodded to mess on the floor. 

Liz let out a sound between a shriek of frustration and a snarl and then another one, strangely resembling defeated sigh. As quickly as the anger had appeared, it had drained out of her, leaving her feeling cold and empty and lost – all the things she had sworn never to become again, not because of a man.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted,” he continued, subdued, and she felt her eyes sting yet again. He sounded so damned remorseful as if it was tearing him apart. Perhaps it was. Perhaps he had no idea how to deal with all of this any more than her.

Putting a hand over her eyes momentarily, she turned her back to Reddington and placed her palms on the cabinet, leaning against the little countertop and staring at the coffee pot. It was almost empty, there was only a little left at the bottom – just her luck, right?

“I’m tired, Ray,” she said as her shoulders slumped. She could swear that he inhaled sharply, but she didn’t turn to look at him. “This dysfunctional thing between us? It’s making me dead tired and I guess you were right to stop what we had been doing because all that pretending was so damned unhealthy…”

Red placed her favorite coffee mug – now with a visible chip and missing the handle – on the countertop right next to her left hand. He moved closer slowly and Liz closed her eyes against the onslaught of warmth and spices that flooded her senses. Perfectly aware of what he was doing, Red lingered, and his fingers brushed hers as he leaned in.

“I thank you for this honesty, sweetheart,” he rumbled. “I hope you know that whatever form this dysfunctional thing between us takes, I prefer it to be without falsity and pretend. If all you can offer is anger, I’ll take it over a pity fuck every single time.”

His lips brushed the skin of her temple and then he was striding toward the door, leaving Liz numb and shaken. But she wasn’t cold anymore. There was a spark inside of her, a foolish hopeful thing. It sounded like he wanted… like Red thought… What?

No! He couldn’t leave just like that.

“Wait!” She tore after him and managed to catch him before he made it through the door.

“Yes, Lizzie?” Red’s eye twitched and she knew that he was extremely uncomfortable, that he was trying to run. Making the infamous Raymond Reddington run was not exactly what she would call a great achievement, not in these circumstances.

She stared at him for a second, carefully examining his neutral expression. In his eyes, an echo of familiar pain flashed briefly before he managed to push it down. It seemed that Liz wasn’t the only one tired of the state of things between them, the only one hurting. Maybe he longed for a good night’s sleep, too. Was it possible that she had misjudged his reasons for ending their affair – misjudged Raymond so terribly? Had she been so wrapped up in her own confused feelings that she had failed to take notice of his struggles?

Trust and honesty and love were terribly dangerous in Red’s world. Even if he would crave those, he would probably keep his mouth shut and soldier on without them. Well, he already had, hadn’t he? Never really asking for what he truly wanted, thinking he would never get it.

“Lizzie?” His tone was bordering on apprehension. She had been staring way too long, probably looked like a lunatic, too, blocking his exit like this. Her inner psychologist was smugly putting the notepad and pen away, calling them both blind idiots.

“I’m not going to have a talk about us in this dingy room in an underground black site, Red. Let’s get out of here.”

It was his turn to widen his eyes as he opened and closed his mouth. Then he shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly, “I’m afraid that there are places I need to be right now…”

“Yeah, you bet,” Liz snarled and poked him in the chest, the unhinged feeling was back. She felt as if she was running for her life – for the future of it. “You need to be drinking coffee with me somewhere private where we can talk properly. We didn’t last night and we obviously should. If you think you can drop mysterious hints of the size of an elephant and then run, you have another thing coming.”

She was not going to let them muddle through uncertainty and confusion any longer. Liz damned well knew what she wanted –even if it wasn’t good for her, really – and she truly was tired of all that doubts, frustration, and pain. If Red couldn’t deal with emotions, that was fine, she would have a good cry and move on eventually. But if he by some miracle was interested in something more than casual sex… Things could get only better if that was the case.

With determination, she walked through the door and fully expected Raymond to follow which he did, looking slightly dazed by her outburst. Oh, well. He’d live.


End file.
